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FORTY HOURS LATER I opened my eyes. A nurse who was staring at me jumped with surprise and rushed away.
When she returned towing a doctor, I said, "Get Calvique of the police." That was around two in the afternoon.
Calvique did not appear until six. By then I was detached from some of my tubes and was sitting up.
"I did not expect to have this opportunity," he admitted. "The physicians were not optimistic."
"Never in doubt," I said.
"No? You don’t think perhaps you should have stayed here the first time? "
"If I had stayed, you would not have caught George Wrexham. You did catch him, didn't you?"
"Oh, yes. When the alarm went off, my men responded immediately. Your George Wrexham lay unconscious on M. Marsford’s bedroom floor, a very bad—what you say, gash on his head. It seems his accomplice didn’t wish him to be able to name him if the older man was too slow to get away.”
“Is he alive?”
A nod. “You’ll have to testify. I hope you don’t mind.”
We shared a smile. “And the accomplice?”
“He tried to hide in the Roman tower, which we surrounded of course.”
“Returning to the scene of the crime?” I remarked, thinking of my nearly fatal fall.
Calvique shrugged. “A broken ankle. Unfortunate, eh?”
“Who was he?”
“Ah, DuBoque, a minor criminal from Paris.” He tapped his fingers together. “Not so minor anymore.”
“Attempted murder?”
“Oui, breaking and entering, destruction of property, the list is lengthy.”
“Add probable murder accomplice to the rest,” I told Calvique, then explained my suspicions regarding Wrexford and the button from Lily’s bathrobe pocket. “I think you’ll find a match on a jacket in Wrexford’s wardrobe.”
“You’ve seen this?”
I admitted I had, I just didn’t admit where.
“A most serious charge. We will investigate, of course.”
“It may also interest you to know the young woman, Samantha Carlisle, is in custody." His eyes widened as if to capture every nuance of my reaction, a reaction I didn’t care to share.
Disappointed, Calvique soon continued. "Yes, we almost departed, having already arrested the two men, when Mlle. Carlisle approached us. Apparently, the sight of you on the stretcher moved her to confess. You must teach me how to inspire such honesty in women. It would be very useful in my line of work.”
“Your work. Of course.” We shared a wry smile.
For a second it all struck me as a joke—two of Marsford’s rightful heirs going to prison for trying to get what belonged to them? But of course there were other heirs to consider as well, and Marsford had specified the chateau should come even before them.
"The boy Robert found you, by the way," Calvique was saying.
“What! How did that happen?”
“He was walking by the chateau when the alarm went off and stopped to watch. When he didn’t see you, he demanded my men let him in to look for himself. He called himself your, what was it? factotum. Remarkable. Incidentally, I wiped his record clean, but in the future you must not promise such things. We police like to think that is our privilege.”
"I’ll keep it in mind–wherever I am. Tell me, where was Pascaline during all the fuss?"
"Tied up in her room and thoroughly frightened, but otherwise quite healthy. A doctor sedated her that evening, but she is all right now. Talking incessantly about her adventure–I could scarcely get away. By the way, you didn’t happen to disturb the Marsford’s graves, did you?"
“No. That was Wrexham’s man. I’ll put you in touch with the plumber. He’ll explain.”
“Another witness? Excellent.”
"Perhaps the gardener, Henri, too,” I suggested.
“Yes. In the morning I found him in Marsford’s bedroom weeping over a piece of carved wood.”
“Then you don’t believe he was involved?”
“Not at all.”
I couldn’t restrain a yawn as I relaxed back into the pillow, and I had begun to wonder why Calvique was lingering. It seemed we had covered every question we might ask each other, at least all I cared to discuss.
Yet rather than make his excuses and leave, he pulled a chair over and used it. Folding his hands behind his head, he looked me in the eye and said, "You must help me make a most difficult decision."
I couldn’t imagine what it would be.
"As I said, Mlle. Carlisle is in custody, but I have not yet named the charges to be brought against her."
No longer drowsy, I fingered my sheet and swallowed. I noticed the edge of my sheet was crooked. I plucked at it, trying to straighten it out. "So what is your question?"
"Whether to charge her with attempted murder..." He paused to enhance the word. “Or merely accidental poisoning."
"Did she know it was poison?"
"To the contrary, if we can believe her. Here. Judge for yourself." From his pocket he produced a page of typewritten copy marked page three. I did not have to read far.
"...convinced me to join him because he said Richard would never find the treasure, that Richard hadn’t the slightest idea where to begin searching.
“And George said if he found it without my help I wouldn’t see a dime of it ever, which seemed awfully unfair to me, especially since we were both equally entitled to it.
“Anyway, what he was asking didn’t seem very harmful. Just put something in Richard's wine to make him sleep, flip off the alarm, then go open the front gate with his keys.
“I was supposed to wait for George in a hotel room across the street, but I was too nervous. I took a table at a cafe where I could see more...”
So Samantha had behaved consistently after all. Under pressure her lesser characteristics surfaced as they always had and always would. It was an endearing revelation to a sucker like me, but as I said, I’m attracted to spoiled women who honestly look out for themselves. I dropped the paper onto the bed.
"She was forced, Calvique. There were bruises on her wrist. Doesn't that make it the lesser charge?"
"I wish it were so simple. She did nearly cause your death." He shook his head. "Perhaps if we had been able to test some of the wine in our laboratory to determine if it were a lethal dose. Your stomach was no help, you see." I realized for the first time why my throat was sore inside. The hospital had used a stomach pump.
"Your state of health was also a factor. What is your opinion, Monsieur? Did you drink an amount large enough to cause your extreme reaction, or did a very small quantity nearly kill you? It would be very helpful to know. Murder? Or accidental poisoning?"
"Accidental poisoning," I mumbled.
"Eh?"
"Accidental poisoning," I said at a volume that brought the nurse. Calvique waved in her direction to indicate he was preparing to leave.
"Very well," he agreed gravely, as he replaced the chair. "I suspected that might be the case. Thank you. Bail will now be possible..."
At the doorway he turned back as if having an afterthought.
"I nearly forgot. The cook wanted to know if you require anything. Your razor, or possibly some underwear?"
"No. Tell her thanks, but I have what I need for now."
"Are you certain you have enough...I think you call them T-shirts?"
Then I remembered. The majority of the poisoned wine was soaked into one of my undershirts under the bed. Had Pascaline found it, or had Calvique? The thought of Samantha convicted of attempted murder sickened me. She probably deserved whatever comeuppance a person guilty of selfishness and greed deserves, but not several years in prison. It dawned on me Calvique was deliberately offering me an opportunity for revenge.
"Tell Pascaline I don't need anything," I said.
Calvique rocked back and forth on his heels with a contented, appreciative expression lingering around his eyes, and I realized he endorsed my choice. I smiled back to seal the understanding.
"Thanks anyway," I told him.
He spun on his heel and walked out, but his smile hung in the air long after he was gone.